9 Crimes The Hollows
by WrongFromGo
Summary: Loosely based on the Damien Rice song "9 Crimes" but really more of a fluff  well, as close as I get  one-shot story. Al/Rachel. Just read and review, okay?


Title: 9 Crimes- Al's Lyrics

Genre: Fanfiction- The Hollows. Songfic- Damien Rice "9 Crimes"

Rating: I rate everything NC-17 OR HIGHER just to be safe. I'm not your normal little cookie, and it comes out in ink like poison on the page.

Pairing: Al/Al and a lot of implied Al/Rachel

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the words rattling around my twisted little brain. All recognizable characters/plot points belong to Kim Harrison. There may or may not be spoilers- I don't give spoiler warnings by piece or chapter, so if you haven't read all published books in the series, you may want to skip anything I write.

**WARNINGS: I am hardwired for tragic, erotic, sometimes frighteningly dark story-telling. I seldom write anything that is less than an NC-17, never anything less than an R. MOST of my work is even heavier on any/all of the following material- sex consensual, coerced and completely nonconsensual, blood/gore, bizarre magical concepts, a stockpile of torture and horror developed from childhood, a strong background in BDSM and other kinky things, profanity, non-canon plotlines, complete disregard for social norms and niceties, and a strongly purple tint to my prose. I write any and all imaginable sexual pairings- and a few that I'm pretty sure are illegal, or would be if they were possible on this planet. Occasionally I'm in a humorous mood and Cthulu kin make an appearance. I'm also addicted to feedback, the more I get, the more I write.**

1.

He thought maybe it was the hair that did it. Rioting down her back like bloody fire, thick and untamed. He wanted to drag her into dark alleys by that hair, wind it around his hands and hold her down while he raped that smart, sassy mouth of hers with his own. He wanted to wrap it in his fist and drag her head back while he took her from behind, wanted to throttle her with it most days. His cock ached every time he thought about it, and he was tempted to knock Pierce senseless, force a shapeshifting potion down his throat, and relieve his angst.

2.

Unfortunately, no matter what form he put on the damned little Council flunky, he couldn't get hard for him if his life depended on it. He couldn't do it. He couldn't accept ashes as diamonds. He even tried to rape the man just for the sheer cruel thrill of it- and ended up stepping away in disgust. He left his familiar in a bloody, naked heap on the lkitchen floor and went to take a shower instead.

3.

He liked this body. He liked the elegant, broad hands with the long fingers, the wide shoulders and blatantly masculine physique. He liked the handsome face and the long, thick hair. But most of all he liked the cock that came with it. Heavy, thick, with pale violet veins and a blushing crimson head, it looked like a formidable weapon. He stroked it idly as the hot water beat down on him. He liked the way it felt to have it respond, hardening slowly into quivering, aching arousal as he thought about his delicious, twitchy, itchy witch.

4.

It was sundown. It was Saturday. He tapped his foot impatiently, steppping into the line the moment it cleared. He sank into the rush of the line, feeling the world dissolve and reform. She was waiting, patiently adjusting the strap of the stupid backpack she had started carrying. He didn't even bother to warn her, just snatched her into his arms and pulled her into the ever-after. She'd be so pissed- he smirked as he felt her struggling against him as the kitchen materialized around them. He relished the lithe grace of her body pressed against his, and pressed back as she wiggled. She froze, and he laughed as he let her go.

5.

"Cake?" He slid the plate in front of her, using his other hand to push away the book she was hunched over. "You looked a bit peckish." He buried his nose in the curls behind her ear, breathing in the scent of her shampoo under the burnt amber that clung to everything. "I thought you might appreciate a bit of devil's food."

"I... I'm not... AL? Are you SNIFFING me?" She twisted, trying to scoot back from the table to rise, but he put his hands on her shoulders and held her in place. Her pulse beat just a breath away from his mouth, over the invisible vampire bite he had given her the first time he laid eyes on her.

"Hmm?" He purred against her throat, using his weight to trap her against the table as he ran trickles of ley line energy over her skin. "I think of it more as _tempting your appetite, _love."

6.

He could still taste her fear and arousal. It trembled on the edes of his tongue like the lingering finish of some exquisite wine. He hummed as he worked in the kitchen, ignoring the dark looks his familiar gave him. He toyed with his appearance, settling finally on jeans and a black leather jacket, with a rich green silk dress shirt underneath. Green like emeralds, like the terrified eyes of his twitchy little vixen of a student. He trapped another stupid summoner, sold him, bought back another little piece of his empire. He ran his fingers lovingly over the carved walls as he paced the room. He couldn't wait to see what she thought.

7.

Another Saturday night, and she was buttoned up tight as a nun. The mental imagery, of what he could do to her... His eyes narrowed in delight at the thought of the pleasure and pain he could inflict on her with a statue of the Virgin Mary, covered in christening oil. Get her right over that little bisexual hang-up of hers. He grinned, rubbing his hands together in glee, and offered her his arm.

"Shall we?"

She trembled as she slid her arm through his, and he laughed as the line took them.

8.

He hummed as he moved around her in the kitchen, using tiny excuses to touch her. A hand on her waist to steady her as she reached for a hanging pot, his hip brushing her ass as he slid past with his arms full of spelling ingredients. Her cheeks flushed, and he didn't think it was from the heat of the stove. He poured wine into cut crystal glasses and plunked one down beside her as he wandered to his chair, settling in and making himself comfortable. He watched her over the rim of his glass as she stared into the ruby depths of the wine, her face charmingly confused.

"What should I do with this?" she finally asked, loking back and forth between the glass and the book in front of her. "I don't see it anywhere in the list."

"You should drink it, itchy-witch." He let his amusement tickle the back of his throat as he swallowed back his laughter. "It would be a shame to waste this vintage in the spell pot."

She glared at him, pushing the glass slightly away. "I can't drink red wine."

"Oh yes you can," he assured her. "Try it. I'll take back a mark if it makes you ill, like that grocery store swill you call wine." Warily, she reached for the glass and took a sip. Relaxing, he sat back in his chair and motioned her to continue with the curse she was twisting.

9.

"Okay, I give." Rachel threw her hands up in frustration. "What do you want?"

Al looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow. "In what way to wish to define that question? I want a lot of things, dove."

"What do you want from ME?" Rachel's voice was climbing, getting rather alarmingly shrill. Her hands moved spastically in circles around her shoulders. "THIS is driving me insane. This... whatever this is."

Clucking his tongue ruefully, Al closed his book and st it aside. Rsing, he came arund the worktable and took her shoulders in his hands, rubbing lightly.

"Rachel, Rachel... are you so distrustful that you can't accept even basic kindness from your own teacher?"

"Not when my teacher happens to be a demon," Rachel retorted. "I mean it Al. What are you up to?"

"Oh... about half-mast." He delighted in the open-mouthed shock on her face. It made things so much easier...

And once he had that hair wound around his fingers and her head tilted back, and had that smart, sassy mouth under his, it was even easier still. He pulled her possessively closer to his body, relishing the cool stone of the kitchen floor against his overheated skin, and listend to her drowsy little whimper with utter satisfaction. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her flawless skin and idly wondered how they had managed to get her lacy black panties on top of the grandfather clock.

Yes, he definitely liked this body.


End file.
